


Snow Day

by bunniewabbit



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-18
Updated: 2008-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunniewabbit/pseuds/bunniewabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/World-News/Las-Vegas-Covered-In-Snow-Winter-Storms-Coat-Sin-City-In-Record-Snowfall/Article/200812315185666?lpos=World_News_News_Your_Way_Region_7&lid=NewsYourWay_ARTICLE_15185666_Las_Vegas_Covered_In_Snow%3A_Winter_Storms_Coat_Sin_City_In_Record_Snowfall">It almost never snows in Vegas.</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

 

It's a well-known fact that Brendon Urie is certifiably insane, only to a greater or lesser degree depending on the circumstances and the company. So, Spencer can't even manage surprise when Brendon shows up at his door unannounced (but, seriously, if he thinks about it, the snow was announcement enough) and way too early in the morning, bouncing manically on his toes and grinning the proverbial ear-to-ear grin that he's so good at.

"It's _snowing_ , Spence!" And before Spencer can even utter the _No shit_ that's on its way out of his mouth, Brendon grabs him by the elbow and tugs him out into the falling flakes.

"Brendon, it's cold. Can I at least grab a jacket?" Brendon himself is only wearing, like, a hoodie and probably a t-shirt underneath, and his hood isn't even up, so the flakes are starting to coat his hair, glistening white against dark brown.

"You're a pussy, Smith. But, yeah, go put on a jacket. And a hat and a scarf and gloves, too, because we're going to build a _snowman._ "

"Dude, it's not even sticking."

"It is, too! Look." Spencer eyes follow the invisible line between Brendon's finger and the flowerbed, and sure enough, the tiniest accumulation of white is visible in the rough surface of the mulch. Brendon makes shooing motions at him. "Now, go get your jacket."

When Spencer comes back out, tugging the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, Brendon is standing in the grass with his face tipped upward, his mouth open, his tongue out. Spencer joins him on the lawn and lifts an eyebrow at him. "Do you have any idea how dirty those flakes have got to be?"

"Buzzkill. I swear, did someone disable your fun button, or something?" Brendon turns to face Spencer, grabs him by the upper arms and looks intently up into his face, commanding his attention. "It's fucking _snowing_ , Spencer Smith." There is barely-contained glee, possibly bordering on hysteria sparkling behind Brendon's eyes, undermining his attempt to impress upon Spencer the grave enormity of the situation. Spencer can't help it: he grins at Brendon and watches the serious facade crack and fail, and Brendon lets loose with a cackle that cuts through the snow-muffled air. Spencer grins wider.

Brendon throws his arms wide and grins up at the slate-grey sky. "A snowman. Snow _men_. Snow... _women_." He waggles his eyebrows at Spencer; Spencer rolls his eyes, but he's still grinning helplessly. "Snow... angels! And a fucking snowball fight!" Brendon stuffs his fists in the pockets of his hoodie and they stand and watch the drift of flakes in companionable silence. From the corner of his eye, Spencer sees Brendon shiver and pull his arms in closer to his body. "Shit. It's cold."

Spencer laughs at him, because, _duh_ ; Brendon's delayed reactions to the obvious never cease to amuse. Brendon pouts at him, and Spencer rolls his eyes again. He holds open the front of his jacket and says, "Come here." Brendon fails to repress a little hop before he hurls himself at Spencer like a puppy, snuggling in against his chest. Spencer sucks a breath as ice-cold hands wrap around his back, frigid even through his shirt. " _Fuck_."

"Sorry." Spencer feels Brendon tuck his hands into fists, as if that were going to help keep Spencer's kidneys from going into shock. "I've, uh. I've been outside for awhile."

"You're such a fucking idiot," Spencer says fondly, and folds the front of the jacket as far around Brendon as it will go, pulling him in. "I have another jacket I can get you...?"

"Okay, but not just yet." He snuffles a little against Spencer's chest. "Just let me warm up for a sec."

They stand like that awhile, Brendon gradually going looser and softer against Spencer as he warms up and stops shivering. Around them, the snow is slowly starting to turn the ground silvery-white.

Brendon finally sighs and twitches impatiently inside the circle of Spencer's arms. "Okay, better now. Thanks." Brendon pulls back a little and surges up onto his toes, presses his lips to Spencer's for a moment, warm and damp against Spencer's cold, dry ones. Spencer blinks and Brendon pushes away, stepping back and smiling up at him. A cluster of snowflakes lands softly on the outside corner of Brendon's eyelashes, and he laughs and shakes his head to dislodge it. "I'll take that jacket now, though, if you're still offering."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Spencer nods and turns toward the house. His lips are still buzzing from Brendon's kiss, and he licks them without thinking, suddenly aware of how cold they are. He gets to the steps and from behind him comes Brendon's exultant voice: "God, look at it! It's _amazing_."

Spencer turns and looks; Brendon is standing in the middle of the lawn, his snow-speckled head tilted back, arms spread toward the heavens, and Spencer silently agrees with him. And for the first time since he was a kid, he finds himself wishing that they lived where it snowed a _lot_ more often.  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  



End file.
